Browsing Category: Short Story

               He was tired.  He was drained.  It’d been a day.                She saw it in his eyes.  She held her book, but it was him she read, the way they always seemed to do.                “I’m tired,” he spoke.  “I’m peopled out; not from everyone—not you—but there’s no one else I want to see.” […]

               She waited for him in love open and free, smile at the sound of his steps in rise to room, finding of eyes to wait-meeting of hers, the way they grew and glowed in find of her there, intention’s telling in her wait.                She loved that it did not need to be heavy, […]

               Still in the way of new-love vigor, spirit and season of seeming never-end found, restored, and lived anew in miracle of middle-age, spirit yearned again.                Morning way in lead to desire of noon, hearts strongly drawn again; sweep of her body, lift of her ass, take of strong and fast; deep heat-rose hue […]

               She held him stronger, bracing full in the force, stomach flexed and forward curled as she stayed wide, breathing in full-drain empty through speed and the strengthening, rose of her skin in force and friction and energy’s meet; open of her lips, soft sound in her breath; heat of the sun on back; dizzied […]

               It was a slow morning, a slow beginning.  Neither rushed it on.  There was no reason; and so they rested in the quiet and the open of Monday and week’s begin.                Frost again on the lawn outdoors, sign of winter’s change—freeze and thaw and freeze-return in change of sky and heat with sun. […]

               Quiet Sunday, coffee in hand, both dressed and covered in robes of fleece that warmed in soft the open of their underbodies, at rest in solace and silence at island in heart of their home, she asked, “What are you thinking?”                He smiled.                 “I think you’re beautiful in the morning sun.”                […]

               Memory returned and she saw again the way it was at worst and greatest disarray.  She thought of the then, all she had felt—doubts, fears and worries in then.                But that was past.                She looked on the present with a love and high regard for the near-perfect it became.  She smiled in […]

               “You have a remarkable story.  Isn’t it time you tell it?”—Leslie Leyland Fields _____                He saw the message written to sky over scene of lake, mountain, and clouds—repetition of a message day before appeared over sign and scene of same.                “Why shouldn’t it be the year you write your story?” he asked. […]

               “The reason why such communications are more delightful and blessed than in the world, is, because conjugial love, as it is the love of the spirit, becomes interior and purer, and thereby more perceivable; and every delight increases according to perception, and to such a degree that its blessedness is discernible in its delight.”—Emanuel […]

               Kissing, standing, morning embraced still in naked of night, he moved her as they went.  Step by step, he led her back, slow and gentle as their kiss.  Reach of his hands to her low cool-skinned round, he lifted her in raise and rest to table’s edge.                Kissing still, then its break, gaze’s […]